Echoes
by Diotima
Summary: Phil finds himself in the middle of a war he didn't know existed, a war which now had three sides
1. Default Chapter

**Chapter 1. **

Disclaimer: The Night World is owned by L.J Smith, as do the characters Phillip North, Poppy North, Lord Thierry, Hannah Snow. Charlie, Kieran, Dominic Harlow and Jarred are characters created by me. This story is written purely for entertainment (So please don't sue me!). 

This is my first attempt at a fanfic, so any comments are welcome! 

He could still hear her screams echoing in his mind, could still see the look of terror in her eyes as she realised that she was about to die. The scene played over and over in his mind like a movie, except this was not fiction, no Hollywood ending where the victim was rescued, where the hero ran in guns blazing, to save the day. The corpse, which lay on the cold slab in the mortuary, was a silent testimony to this fact. What was worse was not just that she had been murdered, her young life cut short in her nineteenth year; it was the fact that she had been murdered by a monster, which by all rights could not or should not exist; A vampire, a wretched, parasitic leech. He twisted his lips into a bitter smile laced with savage mockery, the idea that vampires couldn't exist seemed childish, not just mere ignorance but utter stupidity, of course they existed, it was written everywhere, in our culture, our legends even in our very psyche, when they and the other creatures of the night had once stalked and killed humans openly, the inexplicable fear of the dark, of the creatures which lurk there, we know cannot exist but our fear refuses to believe that. We just refuse to listen ... 

He stared at the dead body, seeing the same story he'd seen a thousand times before. _A young girl walking home on her own, its late, the chill of the night nipping at her bare arms, she rubs them lightly, trying to generate some warmth but to no avail, she knows should have brought a jacket. She walks briskly down the deserted street, she's only two blocks from her home now, she'd be there soon, but that strange feeling won't leave her, she turns her dark head to glance quickly behind her, there's no one there, she's being stupid, there's no one following her. But that feeling won't leave her, she starts to walk faster, her heart beating quickly, her senses strangely expanded. She can hear the echo of her footsteps as her heel's scrape across the cement surface of the sidewalk. She should have made sure that she had enough money to get a taxi, and then she wouldn't be walking home in the middle of the night, freezing cold and expecting to find an axe murder behind every tree, she curses lightly. She'd definitely seen one too many horror movies in her time. She was close to home now, another five minuets and she'd be in the safety, security and warmth. Turning the corner she starts to walk down the familiar territory of her street, she notices how different it looks in the dark hush of night, amber street lamps light her way. Nearing her house she unzips her black bag fumbling about for her keys, trying to discern between her lipstick, compact, hair brush and other junk she kept in there, finally she feels the cool bite of metal in her palm. She heads down her driveway, relief flooding through her veins. Reaching the front door, her palm glides across its wooden surface searching for the keyhole, once again she curses herself for not remembering to turn the security light on before she went out. Success as she finds the key hole, using her fingers to find the slot, she slides the key in and turns it with a click, the door glides open. Closing it silently behind her, she sighs with relief, vowing that she'd never walk home after dark on her own ever again. Astutely she reached for the light switch, the hallway is flooded with bright white light, and she blinks with the brightness of it. She turns back to the door turning the key in the lock, firmly pushing the security blot across to lock in place. Satisfied she walks to the kitchen, she feels thirsty. She needs a drink before she goes to bed. She reaches for the handle to pull open the door; she freezes as she hears something, a dull thud, her heart beat accelerates, she can feel her pulse beating at her throat, she waits awhile and listens carefully, she hears nothing, swallowing slightly she pushes the door open. Its dark, the light from the hallway, blazing a path in front of her on the tiled ceramic floor, casting shadow in the darker places, It was freezing in the room, a slight breeze grazes across the surface of her skin she glances up to see that the window is open. Striding across the room she reaches up to close and lock it, she really needed to lock up better; the house could have been burgled when she was out. The scare over, she turns her attention to her thirst, she walks to the sink, picking up a glass from the draining board; she opens the tap, the clear rush of water loud in the silence, filling the glass, she turns the tap off. She was tired and was ready for bed. Turning she gasps as a dark shadow stood in front of her, feral eyes shining in the darkness. Her numbed fingers drop the glass, the sharp shattering of glass against the floor, fear spread through her, pricking, tingling and numb. She was frozen she couldn't move, her mind screamed at her, begging her to move, but her muscles won't respond. Her wide blue eyes watch in horror as the dark shape looms towards her, sliver eyes flashing, the look in them was alien and horrifying, and he was looking at her with cold hungry eyes, burning into her, devouring her. She knew then that she was going to die. The sharp glint of fangs as he moved towards her quick as lightning, She opens her mouth to scream, but it comes too late as he pulls her head back in an iron grip as his fangs ripped into her throat. The pain was like nothing she had experienced before, it swamped in an overwhelming wave, she was vaguely aware of her life blood flowing from her as her vision blurred into redness and then there was nothing... _

Blinking, Phillip North stared at the bleak, white walls of the examination room. He took a second for his mind adjusting to reality, his heart beat returning to its normal, steady pulse. He took one last look at the young woman; picking up the file he walked from the pathology room, his mouth was set in a bleak and determined line, his green eyes blazing. Whoever did this they were going to pay; he would make sure of that. They would never see justice in a human court he knew that better than anyone, Nightworlders never faced human justice, not even for the most sacrilegious of crimes. Their people were everywhere, ready to do their duty and cover their brethren's tracks; he had learnt this from bitter experience, not even with DNA evidence could you nail them, the case was always dropped on orders of a higher authority. They were wolves in sheep's clothing, hiding everywhere. He hated them with a burning rage, yet he could do nothing. He had thought he could protect people from the evil in the world, do his part, and bring murderers to justice. He was successful at his job, one of the best in the department, he always got he his man, or woman. He was no fool he knew that some humans were as bad as the Nightworlders, he'd worked on enough murder enquires to know. But then he could bring humans to justice; the Night World worked by a different set of rules. 


	2. Chapter 2

I know that the first couple of chapters are not very eventful but the story should pick up soon. 

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Chapter 2

Sighing, he pushed his hand absently through his hair, reaching into his pocket for his car keys. He unlocked the door and opened it throwing the file on the passenger seat. Another murder and another life reduced a statistic, to a file in a pile of thousands, destined to be locked away at the back of some filing cabinet, forgotten and unwanted. He wondered absently how many of those forgotten and unwanted victims had met their deaths at the hands of a vampire or shifter, as merely prey. Staring the ignition, he flashed a look in the rear view mirror, the eyes that reflected back were cold and weary, not those of the young, care- free teenager he'd once been, but those of a person who knew and had seen too many things in his short life. Pulling onto the inter- state he headed back towards the city, his eyes barely focused on the road ahead. His mind was elsewhere, drifting into the past, hazy memories of happier, innocent times; his holiday to Florida when he was six, the sun beating down, the sand between his toes as he ran across the beach screeching with laughter as he chased his little sister, his twin Poppy, catching her and dunking her in the sea, Poppy screeching and indignant, as she chased him trying to catch up with him. His sister who'd always been so happy and excitable and so full of life... 

His green eyes darkened with remembered sadness and pain; he would never forget the day he was told that she was going to die; his mother was on the verge of tears when she told him his sister had cancer and that she would die within the year. Phil could remember feeling numb; he felt nothing and then as it started to sink in he felt as though his world had been turned upside down. It couldn't be right, they had to be wrong... first he was in denial and then there was the anger, which burned and consumed, why her? Why not him? She was only sixteen for god's sake she hadn't even begun to live yet and she was going to die. He felt helpless, he'd always been there for her, always been able to protect her, yet he could do nothing as his life began to spin out of control. For the first time in his life he truly knew what it meant to be human. 

His lips twisted wirily, human? That had to be the biggest joke in the universe, he felt like a human, yet he wasn't, at least not fully. He'd so often seen people go through a similar set of emotions, the family of the victim. It was the most difficult part of his job, watching them cry, shout and scream as he told them that their wife, husband mother, farther, girlfriend or boyfriend had been killed, not just a fact of nature like Poppy's illness, but murder. He wondered if the murderers ever had a second thought for the people they destroy, the lives they tear apart through their callous actions. The reality was that most murders in New York, like any city on the planet, were not cold blooded, executed by a total psycho on a random stranger, in some ways that would be easier to cope with, ninety five percent of homicides were committed by somebody the victim knows. Murder was a horrible and detestable business and the worst thing is that you can become used to it, in a cold and factual way, just see a victim not a person, see everything as black and white, kind of like what a person in an abattoir must get used to, the bodies, the mutilation and the blood. It becomes a fact of life; it was the only way you could survive on a homicide investigation team, without loosing your sanity. Of course, that was fine for the majority of people, it was a quite another when you live and breathe that last person's moment, feel, see and touch what they did, witness that persons last moments. That is one thing you can never get used to, the feeling of terror, that bone chilling instant when you know that you are going to die, see your murderer come towards you, yet unable to escape, the terror and the pain... 

Philip shook his head trying to rid himself of the horrible images that had assailed mind. Sometimes he thought that he'd go insane, the memories were so vivid and real that it was as though they were his own. Of course they were not, they belonged to the victim, their last moments somehow still imprint on their very being. He didn't always need to see or touch the body to experience their memories, sometimes he'd just walk into the crime scene or pick up a personal possession like a ring or a watch and it would come in a dizzying wave, washing through his psyche, transporting him back to that very moment in time when the act took place. In one way it was a very useful gift to have, he didn't need to piece together the clues and fit a profile to the killer, he was a first hand witness, as he was to this girl's killer. There was however, one major flaw; there was no way that anyone would believe him. Like all police officers, he needed hard evidence to charge someone with a crime, some half-baked story about a physic experience and they'd brand him a freak or lock him up in the funny farm. Another problem was the fact that he worked alongside Night Worlders, his boss for one, was a vampire, if they even got half an inkling that he was anything but human and they'd probably kill him, especially the fact that his sister was an illegal vampire and he'd helped her and her soul mate, James, to escape would not go down well. Of course there was his vampire hunting activates; if they put two and two together they may be able to pin them on him, especially as a number of his 'unsolved' cases were vampire and shifter killings. It doesn't take a genius to spot a Night World killing, bodies where there seems to be internal organs like the heart and liver missing, dumped in the wilderness where animals seem to have been gnawing at it them it was obviously a werewolf killing. Vampire killings were harder, the puncture marks on the neck could be hid by slitting the throat, but this was usually done after the person was dead and bled dry, another telling point is the lack of blood on the crime scene or the body. If you know what you're looking for then it was simple. The tricky part was catching the bastard who'd done it, it required patience and also great care, and they had to be removed discretely. Well he would wait; he had to be sure he had the right person before he acted, before he exacted justice...


End file.
